Chapter 15

Yawning, Isaac stood from his desk. He'd been working too late—and too much in general. All to avoid spending too much time with his charming, beautiful, tempting wife.

He looked at the small oval portrait of his mother that perched on the corner of his desk. He'd had it as long as he could remember, and it was his most treasured possession. He felt such love for the image, if not for the woman he'd never known. He liked to think he knew her, but the truth was that he couldn't recall a single thing about her beyond what he saw in that painting.

What he wouldn't give to have just one memory. Just one faint recollection of even sound or scent.

Wishing his mother a silent good night, he blew out the lantern, then picked up a candle to make his way upstairs. He was shocked to run into his aunt in the gallery at the top of the stairs.

"Droxford, you are prowling about rather late," she said, holding a candle of her own.

"As are you," he noted.

"Sometimes I can't fall asleep easily, and I find a walk helps tire me." She arched a blonde brow. "What is your excuse?"

"I was working."

"I should have known. You work nearly nonstop. At least you dine with Tamsin and me." She frowned at him. "You are not spending enough time with your bride. How can you expect to come to know one another?"

"I've been busy catching up on the work that accumulated while I was away." It had only been three days since they'd arrived.

Aunt Sophia looked rather skeptical. "You should not have sent Tamsin to tour the estate with Seales today. She should have met the tenants with her husband, the baron."

Isaac frowned, stopping himself just before he scowled. Not because his aunt was annoying him, but because she was right. And that annoyed him.

Aunt Sophia shook her head. "You're also working late into the night. I do not understand why when you have a lovely wife awaiting you." Her expression gentled. "I realize you did not have the benefit of a happy family life with two adoring parents, but I hope you can imagine it for yourself. You do deserve that."

Her words caused a rock to form in his throat, so he simply nodded in response.

"Well, I must inform you that you need to take Tamsin out tomorrow. The tenancy you recently let has a vacant cottage that will require refurbishment as it's been empty a couple of years now. I'd planned to take Tamsin to the cottage, but I have matters that require my attention here. So you will take her, and she can help you make a list of what needs to be done. And don't tell me you can't, because this is also necessary work."

Isaac studied his aunt a moment. Had she organized this on purpose to force him to spend time with his wife?

Of course she hadn't. It was something that needed doing. Isaac knew precisely the tenancy she meant, and it had been on his list of things to address soon. Visiting it with Tamsin should be a benefit, not a chore. If Isaac wasn't such a dreadful mope, he would allow himself to look forward to it.

"I will take her," he said.

She nodded. "I'll arrange for you to take a picnic along. Good night, then, my boy." Giving him an affectionate smile, she departed down the gallery.

A picnic? Perhaps his aunt had arranged for this. He wondered if Tamsin had said something about wanting to spend more time with him. But he couldn't imagine her doing that. Probably, his aunt thought they should be together more, and she wasn't entirely wrong.

Guilt weighted Isaac's legs, but he turned and went to the apartment he shared with Tamsin. Would she still be awake? The past two nights, she had not been.

His aunt was right. Tamsin was lovely, and she was his wife. She deserved better, even if he didn't. He would need to try. Spending time with her didn't mean the structure of their marriage had changed.

But he'd led her to believe it was temporary, and the truth was that he didn't know what he wanted anymore. He desired his wife, but he didn't want to let her inside, not past the wall he'd erected after he'd abandoned Mary. Right now, it was just easiest to avoid all of it, and so he buried himself in work.

Stepping inside, he was surprised to see Tamsin seated near the hearth, a book in her lap. She looked up, their gazes connecting. His guilt intensified.

After closing the door, Isaac moved toward her slowly. She wore a pale yellow dressing gown, and her brown hair was plaited over her shoulder, the end resting against her breast. Swallowing, Isaac forced himself to look at her face.

"I was just about to retire," she said. "I wasn't sure if I'd see you, but I wanted to try to wait up." She smiled. "I'm glad I did."

"I am too," he said, realizing he meant it. He sat in the other chair angled near the hearth, facing her. "I wanted to apologize for not being available the past few days. A great many things required my attention after being gone to Cornwall." He cringed inwardly at how that may have sounded to her, as if taking time to marry her was an inconvenience. He rushed to add, "Aunt Sophia is not able to take you to the vacant cottage tomorrow, so you will have to suffer me instead, I'm afraid."

Her eyes lit up. "Brilliant! Perhaps we could bring a picnic."

"My aunt has already arranged for that." He felt another stab of guilt at the sheer joy in her face.

She scooted forward in the chair, leaning toward him slightly. "That is very thoughtful of her."

His gaze dipped to the curve of her breast once more. A strong surge of desire crested over him, like the waves upon the beach at Weston. How he longed to pull her in his arms and kiss her.

What was he waiting for?

Before he'd come to know Tamsin, when he thought of kissing, he recalled Mary's sweet mouth, her happy sighs, her desperate whimpers. Now, when he thought of kissing, he imagined Tamsin's lips against his and her body melting in his arms. Such things led to deeper intimacy, and he wasn't ready for that.

"Isaac?" Tamsin prompted.

He gave his head a shake. "I'm sorry, I was thinking about the farm," he lied.

"I just wondered when we would go tomorrow."

"In the afternoon," he said, rising abruptly. The longer he stayed here with Tamsin, the more tempted he became. "Good night, Tamsin," he said.

"Good night, Isaac."

Isaac fled and hoped tomorrow he could continue to avoid temptation.

* * *

At some point in the night, Tamsin awoke as the world crashed down. She shrieked in fright.

Gasping for breath, she looked about and grasped her bearings. She was in her chamber at Wood End. Though it was still not entirely familiar, she knew it well. But the vantage point was different. She was lower to the ground. And somewhat crooked.

Finally, she realized the bed had collapsed. It dipped toward the floor, the middle sagging horribly, and at a bit of an angle so that she was indeed crooked.

She did not know how she was going to climb out. The dip held her amid the concave mattress and bedding.

The door to her room burst open, and light flooded the chamber. "Tamsin?"

Isaac sounded as horror-stricken as she had felt.

"I'm fine," she said from amidst the sunken bed. "I fear the bed has broken."

He moved to the end of the bed, and she looked up at his face, partially shadowed where the candle's light didn't fully reach since he held it out toward her. "Are you all right?"

"I think so. Just startled." She smiled to ease his concern.

"Only you could smile at a time like this," he said with a shake of his head. Stepping to the side of the bed, he set the candle on the nightstand. Then he leaned over and offered her his hands. "Grab hold and I'll pull you up."

She clasped his hands, and he helped her to stand on the bedding.

He leaned over farther. "Put your arms around my neck."

Twining her arms about him took her back to the day on the beach when he'd lifted her from the waves. Indeed, this was very similar as he now plucked her from the destruction of the bed's collapse.

"Just like on the beach," she murmured, as he set her down beside the bed.

She wore just her cotton night rail, and he wore a long sleeping shirt, also made of cotton. He was warm and solid against her, and she was loath to release him. So she took her time, sliding her hands down his collarbones and onto his chest. She kept her palms against him, feeling his heart beating strong and sure—and perhaps too quickly as hers was doing.

He said nothing, but his gaze burned into hers, and she had the sensation again that he might kiss her. Would he finally? Her belly clenched in anticipation.

"You can sleep in my bed," he said, taking a step back from her.

Tamsin dropped her hands, disappointed that he'd gone, but thrilled at his suggestion. Until he added, "I will sleep on the chaise in the sitting room."

"That is nowhere near long enough for your frame." She shook her head firmly. "No, you must sleep in your bed too. It's plenty large enough for the both of us. I daresay we won't even know the other is there."

She held her breath, waiting to see if he would argue. He seemed adamant they not share a bed. "Please?" she added. "It's the middle of the night, and we can easily sleep there together without disturbing one another."

"All right. If you don't mind."

She wanted to cry, no, I don't mind! After her conversation with Laura the other day, she'd been looking for ways to spend more time with Isaac, to recapture the attraction she was sure had sparked between them in Weston. She'd felt it earlier tonight when he'd come to the sitting room. His eyes had smoldered with a passionate heat that had stolen her breath and stoked a primal heat in the core of herself.

"I'll have the bed repaired tomorrow," he said, stepping aside and gesturing for her to move past him.

Tamsin walked from her room through the small dressing closet to the baron's room. As he entered behind her, candlelight splashed into the space, but it came nowhere close to illuminating the dark corners.

She went toward the bed, slowly walking up the pair of steps to the platform on which the four-poster sat. She'd paid no attention to where he slept when she'd chosen a side. Indeed, she'd just gone to the nearest one—closest to the door adjoining their rooms and the windows. Judging from the rumpled bedclothes, this was where Isaac slept. The other side was nearer the door to the sitting room.

"This is where you sleep," she said, pivoting. He stood at the bottom of the steps, his features stoic, but his eyes still blazing with heat.

"Yes. But do you prefer that side?"

Did he sound strained? His voice seemed…tighter somehow. "I don't have a preference." Though she had to admit, she wouldn't mind sleeping where he'd been. Would it smell like him? Would she be able to feel his warmth? No, the bedclothes would likely have gone cold by now. Still, she could imagine him there.

She shook the fanciful thoughts from her head. Realizing he'd said nothing, she asked, "Do you have a preference?"

Upon his hesitation, she decided he must. "You sleep here. I'll move to the other side." But rather than walk around the bed, she simply climbed atop it, slipped into the bedclothes—and yes, they did smell like him—and scooted to the other side. It was not quite as large as she'd imagined now that she was inside it. If she stretched her arm out, she would touch him.

She thrilled at the thought of that happening.

And yet, she must endeavor to keep to her side. He was clearly uncomfortable with this arrangement. So uncomfortable, in fact, that she wondered if there was something else happening beyond him wanting a temporary marriage in name only so they could get to know one another. Was it possible he didn't like or want sex?

But no. Everything she knew about men indicated they were obsessed with such things. Bane had demonstrated that last year.

Isaac was no Bane, however. She hadn't married a rogue. Did it follow, then, that he simply wasn't interested in being intimate? Tamsin had a hard time accepting that, and she wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was the way he looked at her—as if she were prey and he the hunter.

She shivered as he climbed into the bed, feeling the mattress dip. Her reaction had nothing to do with any concern that it might collapse as her bed had done. No, this was entirely due to her husband, his proximity, the fact that they were barely clothed, and that they were now, at last sharing a bed.

Somehow, Tamsin managed to fall asleep, but she didn't think she slumbered heavily. At one point, she roused to feel a solid presence behind her back. Rolling so that she could see where Isaac was, she had to bite her lip when she found they were quite close. He was on his back, and his arm had been against her spine.

She couldn't really make out his features in the near darkness. Only the embers in the hearth provided a dying light.

Though she longed to snuggle close to him and put her hand on his chest, she stayed on her side, allowing a few inches between them. Smiling, she closed her eyes, glad that they'd at least come this far. Because she was always optimistic, she would believe this was the beginning of something promising.

As she was dozing off once more, she heard him mutter something. Opening her eyes, as if that would make her hear better, she held her breath to see if he would speak again. No, not speak, for she wasn't sure he was actually saying words.

Then it came again, "Mumble, mumble, Mary. Stay mumble mumble longer, Mary."

Tamsin's pulse raced. She forced herself to breathe.

Mary?

Who the devil was Mary?